Reparation (The Kane Trilogy, #3)(77)

She took another deep breath, then squared her shoulders. Looked herself over, and didn't find herself wanting for anything. She walked out of the bathroom. She was holding herself so stiffly, she had a very distinct impression of how Sanders probably felt when he walked around. Roughly like she had a stick shoved up her ass. She tried to ignore everyone, the hum of the people in the hall, the din in the lobby, the sound of someone calling her name.

Huh?

Tate turned around and was shocked to see Jameson practically barreling through people. He was hurrying away from the bank of elevators, shouting her name. She was stunned into a standstill. He finally caught up to her, grabbed her by the shoulders.

“What are you doing? Are you drunk!?” she exclaimed, her eyes sweeping over him.

Her mind was blown. He was wearing a baseball hat. A hat. Crazier than him wearing sandals in Marbella. Was he trying to be incognito? She almost hadn't recognized him. He was wearing a plain grey t-shirt and jeans, and no shoes. A plastic grocery bag swung from his wrist.

He's gone crazy.

“No. What the fu-ck do you think you're doing!?” he demanded. It was weird, instead of hiding his eyes, the bill of the hat almost amplified them. Like a telescope, focusing all of her vision onto his blue, blue eyes.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“You can't be with him, Tate. You're a part of me, you belong with me,” Jameson all but shouted. She was stunned.

“What has gotten into you?” she hissed, shrugging out of his hold. She grabbed his bicep and yanked him out of the flow of people, to the inside of a hall.

“You. Don't do this. Don't go be with somebody, some guy, just to not be with me,” he growled. She rolled her eyes.

“He's not some guy, and he likes me, Jameson! Really likes me!” she snapped at him.

“I really like you! Why aren't I good enough?” he asked. She groaned.

“You don't like me, Jameson. You like having someone around that you can feel superior to,” she told him.

“No. Since Spain, I have never made you feel that way – if that's how you felt, then it's something you did. Stop blaming all your shit on other people!” he yelled.

“I don't have to listen to -,”

“Yes, you do. I want to be with you. I want you to be with me. What else do you want!? Do you want me to beg? Is that the fu-cking problem?” he pressed.

“Oh, yes, I would love that. Jameson Kane, begging -,”

“Please. Please, don't do this,” he whispered, grabbing her arms and yanking her close. “Please. I'm begging you. Don't do this.”

The shocking just did not stop.

“Jameson, stop, you're making a scene,” she hissed at him. He shook his head.

“Do you think I give a fu-ck? Goddammit, Tatum, just listen to me, for once. You're willing to try out all this happy-home bullshit with him? Well, let me try it out with you,” he urged.

“You don't mean these things,” she breathed, shaking her head.

“Please. You haven't given me my chance, and I was here first. You want all these things, let me try to give them to you. You said you wanted a prince – I'm as close as you can get,” he told her.

“I said I wanted Prince Charming; you're the Prince of Darkness.”

“Still a prince, baby girl.”

Too much. This man is so much.

“Jameson ...,” she breathed, closing her eyes.

“Here. I bought you something. Today,” he was suddenly saying, letting her go. She opened her eyes to see him digging something out of the plastic bag. He pulled out a large, square, velvet box. She glared.

“Is this a joke?” she demanded, yanking it out of his hands as he held it out to her.

“No. Just open it. You'll -,” he started. She smacked him in the arm with the box.

“You just don't fu-cking get it! For such a smart fu-cking person, you don't fu-cking get anything! You can't buy me!” she shrieked the last part, hitting him over and over with the box. He grabbed her wrist and the box fell out of her grasp, clattering to the ground at her feet.

“I'm not trying to buy you, you stupid bitch! Just fu-cking open it!” he yelled back. People were starting to stop and stare at them.

“Go fu-ck yourself. This is why I didn't want you here, why I don't want to see you. You ruin everything,” she growled at him. He glared back at her.

“You know what? Fine. Fine. I can't make you be with me, you're right. You wanna be fu-cking stupid, then go be fu-cking stupid. But don't be with him. Don't go be with him, just to not be with me. That's stupid. I can bear the thought of you being out there alone, without me. What I can't bear is the thought of you being out there with the wrong man.”

Tate didn't know what to say to that – Jameson, willing to let her go. Jameson, simply begging her to not be with the wrong person. She was at a loss. It didn't matter anyway. She still hadn't found her voice when she felt an arm slide around her waist.

“Are you okay? Excuse me, mister, you can't just -, oh.”

Nick and Jameson stared at each other. She felt like she was going to melt into the floor. The two had never met. She had never wanted them to meet. They were from different spectrum’s of her life. Jameson was the dark. Nick was the light. The two weren't ever meant to meet.